Daniel's Christmas Carol
by Myosotis13
Summary: A Daniel Jackson Xmas story! The classic storyline tweaked to fit our favourite archaeologist. Past, present, future...Daniel, Jack, a bright light, a naquadah mine...Santa Claus? Featuring the team, some characters we love, and some we love to hate!
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: this is intended as a humour Christmas piece; all the afferent references are therefore intentional and I am not claiming credit for any of them (i.e., I did not come up with the "A Christmas Carol" storyline!). And of course "Stargate" doesn't belong to me, either, and because this world is not fair, neither does Daniel (though my Christmas list is open!)**

**A/N: This little Xmas plot bunny is less a bunny and more a...mad hatter. It's all over the place, really. Please take it with a grain of salt!**

**Enjoy :-) **

_Daniel's Christmas Carol_

1.

The last thing I remember thinking is 'oh, not again'.

So here is how it all started. Or rather, how it all _ended_—the more correct, if gloomier, term.

There was a bright light. There's _always_ a bright light. Take it from someone who has had all too much experience with this. And by 'this', I mean passing, moving on, crossing over, embarking on the last journey—or, as Jack would so eloquently put it, kicking the bucket. Whatever you name it, rest assured that I did it.

I shouldn't be so flippant about it, really. But once you've died about five times or so, the mysterious beyond is not so mysterious anymore, and it becomes a little like getting on the commute train. You know exactly what it is and where it's going.

Although…come to think of it, this place is kind of weird. All old and damp and dusty, like the naquadah mines on P3X-55—wait a second.

This doesn't _look_ like a naquadah mine, it _is_ one! I hadn't noticed before, but there's even a couple of abandoned tools lying on the ground, and I can see a waterhole ahead.

I must say, a derelict naquadah mine is not exactly your run-of-the-mill door to the afterlife. Wonder who came up with this lovely setting…

"Danny-boy!"

Oh, no. No, no, no! What the _hell_ is Jack doing here? He can't be—I mean, why would he—no, Jack would _never_—he is _absolutely_ not—

"Come now, is this any way to greet an old friend?" (He's winking at me with that infuriating self-confidence of his, and _what_ on God's sweet Earth is making that awful rattling noise?) "I'm crushed—well, or at least I would be, if I weren't all, y'know—" (there goes that wink again) "—immaterial and transparent."

Now that he mentions it, I can kind of see the ragged walls of the mine through him. What is going _on_ here?

"What are you—"

"Ohh, good question, Daniel," he cuts me off, "but ask me what I _was_."

Uhm.

"I was actually going to ask you what you're doing here."

"Yea I know. I was giving you a hint."

He makes a great show of whispering conspiratorially. I have no idea what he's talking about.

"What's going on, Jack?"

And would he stop—_floating _already?! Seriously, it's distracting.

"Look, Danny, I'm here to give you a warning of what lies ahead."

Ehm. What lies ahead, actually, is a muddy waterhole and a chipped, rusty hammer. And that's exactly what I tell Jack, but all he does is roll his eyes.

"Figured you'd pick this moment to go all literal."

He walked to nearest cave wall, and now he's entertaining himself passing a transparent hand through it. Hello, I know I'm dead, but this is far-fetched even for the ascended Ancients. If they think an abandoned naquadah mine has a strong emotional meaning to me, either they need a therapist, or I do. And I still have no idea what Jack is doing here.

"Whoa!" A long chain just materialized out of the blue; it's coiled around Jack's neck and shoulders and trailing a long way behind him. Why does this scene seem vaguely familiar? "What's that?"

"This, my friend…" he pulls demonstratively at the links, "is the chain of command."

"Huh?"

"Yeah, I've been dragging this around for ages now…seeing as how I consistently used it to evade happiness in life, it's only fitting, ya' see. Me and my chain of command…oh and there's some rules and regulations twirled in there somewhere, too."

Never thought I'd say this in a conversation with Jack, but he completely lost me.

"Are you saying this is what lies ahead for me? Being annoyingly cryptic, transparent and lugging around the—er, chain of command?"

"Nope! This is mine, and I'm not sharing!"

Now he's waggling his index at me. I know he passes through walls, but can I at least _try_ to punch him?

"Now, Danny-boy, it's been lovely to chat, but there's people waiting outside and I'm getting paged about the hold-up."

I have a feeling I'm staring at him with my mouth wide open. Is this some kind of ascended Wonderland?

"Now be good and pay attention," he instructs me, "and maybe you won't end up dragging one of _these_ around, after all."

And before I can say anything else, he vanishes with a loud _pop! _and I could bet he found that funny. Damn Jack and his damn flippant ways. _Now_ what am I supposed to do with myself? I don't want an afterlife of mining for naquadah!

***

**A/N: Thank you for reading!**

**This is actually a completed story, and I will be updating once about every couple of days. (it's not very long, either, only a few chapters!) Meanwhile, I would love to hear from you! **

**Until next time!**

**Enjoy the holiday season and stay warm! **

**Myosotis**


	2. Chapter 2

_Daniel's Christmas Carol_

2.

I was just wondering if maybe I died once too many times, when Santa showed up. Yeah, you heard me right. Santa, as in ho-ho-ho, making a list, checking it twice, _that_ Santa.

"_Cumtraya_!"

And the wonders never cease.

"Daniel Jackson!" He's looking at me from beneath that red furry hat, as though I could ever take _anyone_ seriously who's wearing that. "Do you believe in me?"

Oh, boy. Is this how ascension was _every_ time? No wonder I chose to come back.

"Look, eh…don't get me wrong…"

What, now I'm worried about hurting his feelings? This is all a hoax to begin with! Is Anubis doing this? No, I know: they're testing me! Of course! I should've thought of it earlier. They're probably thinking twice before letting me up there again. So I guess I'll have to pass this test, whatever it is.

"I'm a little old to believe in Santa."

"But you never believed in me!"

Busted, huh? Honestly. My family was not much for tradition—besides, accompanying my parents on all those digs, I had about twenty thousand other mythological creatures to believe in. There simply was no _room_ left in my six-year-old head for Santa.

"Listen, you and I both know you're not really Santa, so whoever you are and whatever you're doing here, just get to the point so we can get this over with and I can ascend!"

He's taking his hat off, and wouldn't you know, there's a shiny little bold patch there.

"Who do you _think_ I am then, if not Santa?"

"Ohhh…probably just one of the ascended Ancients…or maybe the Ori playing with my head"—which, by the way, is a disturbing possibility that has just occurred to me—"or else just a figment of my imagination."

Well, that seems to thoroughly amuse him.

"Ho, ho, ho!" he shouts, patting his red-clad belly. And as luck would have it, even though this mine is probably in my head, there's an echo in here—so soon there's a chorus of 'ho-ho-ho's flying around. "Now listen here, boy," and of course, now he's all serious and grave, "you must learn to believe again. Only then can you be saved."

"Saved from _what_, exactly?"

But he just shakes his head, waves a flowery goodbye and vanishes into thin air, just like Jack. And I'm alone again. But at least now I know what all this is about, this test of sorts. So I imagine it won't be long before the next round.

***

Surely enough, someone else soon pops into existence right next to me.

"Daniel Jackson."

Well, it's certainly good to see that everybody knows my name.

"Come. You must follow me."

This guy's got a dark cloak covering his entire body, and a hood covering his features, so I can't really tell who it is. Maybe the Easter bunny. He's leading me deeper into the mine…wait a second, why am I going for this? I stop and cross my arms and demand to know who—or _what_—he is.

"You must follow me," he repeats, extending an arm towards the murky corridor of the mine. Is this guy for real?

"Yeah, I don't think so," I say, holding my ground, "not until I know who you are."

I'm kind of bluffing, actually. If it's him or more waiting around in an empty mine, I'll take my chances with Mr. Dark and Mysterious. But hopefully he won't call my bluff.

"Oh, very well, then," he relents (what do you know—this _will_ go better than poker team nights, after all.)

He's taking off the hood in a dramatic gesture. And the winner is—holy buckets!

"I…am the ghost of Christmas past."

Heck, no!

"Apophis!" He looks smaller and less menacing in his raggedy cloak, but that's him alright, Mr. Just-won't-stay-dead.

Guess every race has got to have one.

I back up a little, just in case he produces a ribbon device or a staff weapon or who knows what else he's got up his sleeve. I just can't believe this.

I die and end up in the same place as _him_?!

Though come to think of it, he doesn't look particularly menacing right now. He's just giving me that trademark disgruntled glare from beneath his eyebrows.

"Apophis! How did you—"

"I said I was the ghost of Christmas past, okay?! Impudent!"

Oh-kay. Someone's snippy.

"Now follow me, Daniel Jackson," he continues with a roll of his eyes and a repeat of the earlier hand wave. And I think to myself…why not? Maybe that way I'll finally get to the bottom of this.

***

**A/N: Bluedahlia86: Thank you so much for your comment on my last chapter; it was really encouraging. **

**(sorry about replying to reviews in a chapter, I know that's a no-no according to the guidelines--which, by the by, I just had to reread for the _100th time_ to post this new story!--but until they come up with a better way of responding to anonymous reviews, this works!) **

**Thank you for reading! Feedback is loved ^_^. **

**Until next time,**

**Myosotis**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Many thanks and warm cookies to everyone who sent me their feedback! It's wonderful to hear you guys are enjoying my little tale:)**

_Daniel's Christmas Carol_

3.

So, we're not on a Goa'uld mothership, as I would've expected. Instead, the mine vanished to be replaced by a quiet, dusty hall filled with ceiling-high shelves. I'd recognize this place anywhere. It's the University History Library, and I'm probably responsible for more than half of the unreturned books.

"You know this place?"

Oh, yes. His Goa'uld lordship is still here with me.

"Actually, I'm a little surprised that _you_ know it." And a little bothered. "Why are we here?"

"You'll see."

I hate it when they're being cryptic. Especially when I _really_ can't figure out where I am or how I got there. Or why evil incarnate is serving as my guide to the (?)afterlife. Well, evil discarnate, really, since he's supposed to have been dead for six years or so.

"You are _so_ dead, Daniel Jackson."

Huh? Oh-oh, that doesn't bode well. Don't know where it came from, but I'm not sure I want to know, either.

"Get over here! Give that back!"

Someone comes running out from behind one of the shelves, and I brace myself for a possibly unfriendly encounter, but they just rush past me without as much as a glance in my direction.

"What's gotten _into_ you, Jackson?" comes the high-pitched, angry voice again, and another running figure follows the first. This time, I get to see her face. I can't believe it. It's _her_!

Well then the other person must be—it must be me! But then, this must be that night in my freshman year when—_ohhh_. Oh, boy.

I turn to Apophis with a glare.

"What's the meaning of this? Why have you brought me here?"

"To remember."

"I don't need _you_ to remember this!"

Seriously. It's not the kind of thing you, erm, forget easily. I can still hear her indignant ranting echo within the room, and there's another voice mixing with hers, and they're just fighting about Frachmann's theory of continuity in the Mesopotamian basin now. But I know what's coming.

"Ungrateful Tau'ri," Apophis's angry muttering draws my attention away from the two others in the room. "Nothing I do is enough. You don't need me?" he asks with a glare. "Then fine! Enlighten _yourself_!"

And with one last huff, he's gone. Just like that. And I'm alone again, in the dark library room, and the fighting is just starting to be punctuated by giggles. Oh, boy. I _need_ to get out of here before my trip down memory lane becomes X-rated.

"Hey, wait!" I call out to the empty air. "Get back here! I, erm, apologize if I hurt your…feelings." Okay, I can't do this. Didn't Apophis read the job description? He's not supposed to bail on me!

God, I hope whoever designed this cosmic joke at my expense is having a good time. Because when I find them, I'll kill them.

"Come on, Daniel, what are you afraid of?"

"I'm not _afraid_ of anything! I just think—"

"Well, _don't_!"

Oh. I'd forgotten that exchange. Funnily enough, it would be the first, but not the last time I heard it.

"That's your problem, Daniel Jackson…you think too much."

I bang my head against the cold metal of one of the bookracks. What have I done to deserve this?

"Butthat'swhatpeopledo!We, uh, we _think_, okay? We have higher cognitive functions. That's what separates us from the ani—"

"Daniel."

"…uhm, yes?"

Shut up?

"What did Queen Menomya say to her consort when he accused her of indulging policies that hampered unification efforts in the larger Nile basin?"

Very funny, ha ha. She didn't say anything to him, she had his tongue cut out. Come to think of it, she was probably a Goa'uld. They're the type who'd take that route over a simple "zip it".

Talking of Goa'uld, I'm going to _kill_ that snake Apophis. What the hell was he thinking, dragging me twenty years into the past and just dumping me here? Just what kind of higher purpose does this serve? Trying to tell me that I _think_ too much? Hello—coming from the Ascended Ancients, that's rich!

Oh, no. Here goes the awkward giggling again. Did I actually ever sound like _that_? I fight an urge to cover my ears as I hurry towards the door, yank it open and rush through.

***

**A/N: Incidentally, I've been doing pretty well on those updates, eh? *proud grin* Part of my early New Year's resolutions hehe. **

**Feedback is welcome:) Thank you for reading!**

**Myosotis**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Many thanks to everyone who read last chapter, and especially to those of you who sent me your thoughts:) loved hearing from you,** _comme toujours_**. **

_Daniel's Christmas Carol_

_Previously:_

_Oh, no. Here goes the awkward giggling again. Did I actually ever sound like that? I fight an urge to cover my ears as I hurry towards the door, yank it open and rush through._

4.

I seem to have ended up in a tent of sorts. Surrounded on all sides by thick folds of sand-coloured canvas, and there must be more than a hundred degrees outside. I didn't know ghosts could sweat. Or…spiritual manifestations trapped in some Ascended anteroom, whatever.

I reach for a water pitcher on a nearby table only to have my hand pass right through it. So I can feel the heat but can't have the water? How unfair is _that_. Damn it, I need someone to explain the rules of this game to me.

"_Apophis_!!"

Nada. This is just great, I'm stuck in Ascended Wonderland and not only is my so-called guide a scheming System Lord who tried to blow up Earth fifty times—but he's AWOL! Well fine! I _can_ enlighten myself, thank you very much.

"…Oma?"

Ah, it was worth a shot.

Looks like I'm on my own, though. No, wait…I think I can hear voices from outside the tent though, it sounds like someone is coming in. Wonder if they'll be able to s—

Oh, God.

"How could he have rejected you? He may be a stranger to our land and customs, but is he blind as well as ignorant?"

No. No, this can't—

"I have brought shame upon my father…."

"That cannot be! You are Kasuf's pride, his most priceless gift, _any_ man would be honoured to have you for his wife!"

I can't take my eyes off her. Her skin shines in the copper lamplight, just like I remember it. The odd reflections dancing in her eyes. My Sha're…

"He does not want me." Her voice is quivering.

"He has told you so?"

"He would not touch me, nor look at me. Bid me to cover myself."

That…that sounds familiar. I don't know…I can't think about it, when she's standing so close, right there, if I reached my hand, the tips of my fingers would almost…

"Oh Sha're! Do not be ashamed, perhaps…perhaps the stranger does not like women."

…almost brush her cheek, so—_what_?!

"Have you not seen how he talks to the man with the set jaw?"

The—what? The man with the…?

"The one who always gives orders to the others?"

Oh, Jack.

_Jack_!?

Oh for…what _is_ it with that disturbingly popular opinion?!

Wow, okay, I suddenly feel like someone just poured a bucked of ice on me.

I don't know what to do with this. What do they _want_ from me? What am I supposed to prove? I look at her again, and it _is_ her, Sha're, just like I knew her, right down to that red veil she used to put on whenever she felt I was spending too much time translating the pyramid hieroglyphs. Sha're, my beautiful, wise Sha're, standing not two feet from me…

…debating whether or not Jack and I are an item.

"Maybe you are better off. He is peculiar, Sha're," her friends is saying—and hey, don't spare my feelings or anything. "There must be something wrong with a man who would not accept a woman who could make him happy."

That's not true, I want to tell her, but I barely get to open my mouth when the tent starts to dissolve before my eyes. I don't want to go, there's so much more--so much I want to say--I'm so close, but when I try to grab a hold of her, I only find myself grasping at the stale, dusty air back in the deserted mine.

And again, I'm not alone.

"Finally, Daniel Jackson. You are late!"

**A/N: So. A lot of you correctly guessed Sha're was going to come into the story at some point! Who do you think makes our next guest appearance?**

**Until next time:) **

**Myosotis**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Many thanks to everyone who is reading this! Hearing what you guys think about the many ways that the "Christmas Carol" plot could reflect in Daniel's story is very enlightening and entertaining! **

_Daniel's Christmas Carol_

5.

As you might expect from an afterlife limbo, the deserted mine is just as I left it, except not so deserted any longer. I stare at the little alien in front of me, and feel my jaw go slack.

"Lya!"

"I have been waiting for you," she says with that serene Nox smile. Her voice sounds as calm as always. "I am your companion and your guide for the next part of this journey."

"Uh. Okay, don't get me wrong, I mean you're certainly a step up from Apophis…"—not that that's much of a compliment—"but what exactly are you doing here? Actually, what am _I_ doing here?"

Shoulders straight and hands joined in her usual stance, she is standing in the middle of the mine, unfazed by the general murkiness.

"It is essential that you take this journey, Daniel Jackson. You cannot continue forward otherwise. You must revisit and reconsider…"

I know she's still talking, because I see her lips moving. But there's no way I can focus on what she's saying. Something is on my mind, a nagging doubt, so distracting that I cannot follow Lya's words…

"…crossroads and choices are all there for you to…"

…so irritating that I just _have_ to get it off my chest…

"…and please, remember that your entire future may well depend on it…"

"Did you…do something to your hair?"

Lya gives me a bright smile and twirls a shiny, grassy lock around her finger.

"I straightened it! Conditioner, hair gloss and all those ingenious Earth care products have become quite popular on the Nox homeworld!"

"Uhm. It's very pretty."

I think I'm having a flash of lucidity, but this whole thing really makes no sense whatsoever.

***

"I am the Ghost of Christmas Present."

I think I'm getting a migraine.

"Come now, Daniel Jackson. As I said, you were late to arrive, and we must not tarry. I have a lesson to teach you, and you shall profit from it. Touch my robe."

"Eh…you're not wearing a robe."

Wow, I never thought I'd see that Jack-worthy eyeroll on Lya.

To my defence, she _isn't_ wearing a robe! She's donning the usual Nox attire, that odd kind of dress that looks like a bunch of pastel-coloured fabrics randomly sewn together.

"Touch my _dress_, then, Daniel Jackson," she instructs with a long-suffering sigh. Looks like I'm forgiven. Better stay on her good side, before she pulls an Apophis on me.

So I reach out a hand and touch one of the fringes on her shoulder. The muddy walls, the waterhole, the rusty tools strewn around on the ground all vanish instantly, and so does the naquadah mine. We're standing in the middle of a deserted, grey-walled corridor now, with markings that read level—wait a second!

"It's the SGC! You brought me back to the SGC!" I could almost kiss her right now, only…

"—hang on, does this mean I failed the Ascended Ancients' test?"

Okay, so I'm happy to be back, but I'm a _little_ offended—I mean, it's not like failing tests is something that happened to me very often! But Lya isn't saying anything, and instead she's started down the corridor. Well, better follow, I guess…no way am I letting her out of my sight after my last so-called guide ditched me.

God, I sound like Jack again.

***

**A/N: So, this chapter is a little on the short side. But I struggled to divide the next part of the story in some way that made sense, and it was either very short, or very long. ;) For the interest of rounding up the chapters to a nice, fairytale-inspiring number like 7, I went ahead with this version! To make up, however, next part should be up tomorrow! Then the epilogue, and we're done! Do let me know how you're enjoying this little trip!:) **

**Have a wonderful weekend!**

**Myosotis**


	6. Chapter 6

_**A/N: Thanks to everyone who reviewed last chapter! I'm sorry I haven't replied yet--been stuck in a variety of buses, trains and planes for the past couple of days, due to the heavy snowfall and a chronic inability to be punctual. Now I'm finally home, though, and will be getting around to those review replies soon!**_

_Daniel's Christmas Carol_

6.

Lya serenely walks right through the cafeteria doors, and I have no choice but to follow her inside. It's all brightly lit and noisy as usual, chatter and laughter and cutlery rattling…and oddly enough, there are long holly garlands stretched along the walls, mistletoes hung up above the desert line, and fairy lights decorating the drink bar. .

"Come, let us watch," Lya says calmly, tugging on my jacket towards one of the tables, where Mitchell is contemplating half a heavily-maple-syruped pancake on his plate. Teal'c just joined him with a mug of hot chocolate.

None of them gives any indication that they see me, not even when I wave my hand in front of Mitchell's face. To make sure, I poke his temple with a finger, and surely enough, he's completely oblivious as my finger goes right through.

"So…Teal'c…how've you been, man?"

Oh, boy. Two years, and Mitchell still doesn't get the thing about Teal'c and small talk.

"I have been well, Colonel Mitchell."

"And…how's that…Free Jaffa Nation stuff coming along?"

"Satisfactorily."

Ouch.

"Aham…right…and…your…eh…Bra'tac! How's Bra'tac? Haven't heard from the old fox in a while!"

It's like watching a train crash. I can't look away.

"He is likewise doing well."

Mitchell is cutting that pancake so furiously, I'm pretty sure he'll go through the plate soon. Two words, Mitchell: Star Wars.

"Sooo…heard that Nurse Robinson's got a pretty big crush on you!"

Oh, God.

I turn to Lya.

"_Why_ are you putting me through this?" I already _know_ Mitchell and Teal'c can't make small talk with each other. This is just painful to watch!

"You are mistaken, Colonel Mitchell. It is, in fact, Nurse Wiley who is harbouring such a sentiment. I am therefore engineering a characteristic Tau'ri social engagement, and have requested her participation."

Say _what_? Teal'c asked one of the nurses out on a _date_?!

Picking my jaw off the floor, I turn to Lya just in time to see her snap her fingers, and just like that, Teal'c and Mitchell, the cafeteria and the holly and the syrup-drenched pancake vanish, leaving behind only a slight waft of tangerines and cinnamon.

***

Now we're in the middle of someone's quarters. Hm. And I think I know whose. How many airmen on base who have a plush giraffe, a copy of _Cosmopolitan_, a Katanian pocket knife and _my_ credit card on their nightstands?

A sudden knock on the door startles me, and of course Lya looks like she was expecting it. I wonder if I'm supposed to answer, but before I get to decide, the knob turns, and I can see a hand knocking again as it pushes the door open.

"Hi, Sam…"

"Vala?" She pokes her head in, looking straight at me, and—of course—showing no reaction whatsoever. "Vala, are you in?"

She steps inside the room, two glasses clinking in her hand and a wine bottle tucked under her arm. Huh. So Vala favours the Sauvignon Blanc.

***

And before I know, another finger-snap and we're off again. A little too fast, if you ask me. My vision's kind of swimming.

"Uh, Lya, can we do this whole popping-in-and-out-of-places thing a little slower?" Her only answer is a shrug, and she raises one of her arms, pointing somewhere behind me.

I turn, and I _really_ wish I hadn't.

"I may have no idea where I am, but I'm pretty sure _they'_re not supposed to be here!"

But Lya is ignoring my indignant hiss; meanwhile, my throat has gone a little dry all of a sudden.

I'm no expert, but I can tell we're on the bridge of a ship. I can see the void of space through the large window on the opposite wall, and something that looks alarmingly like the charred prison-planet Netu. But even more alarming is what I see on _this_ side of the glass.

A table, long and round, filled with plates and glasses and steaming trays and copper carafes. And seated around the table, what I can only assume is some kind of convention.

Not just some kind; the _bad_ kind.

There is Doci of Celestis, who has just created a small fire out of thin air, and is now using it to roast an underdone pork-chop. He meets Hathor's unimpressed gaze across the table.

"The book of Origin says, those who welcome the Fires of Celestis within their hearts, shall never suffer from undercooked food. And who are you, unbeliever?"

"We are the mother of all pharaohs!" Hathor replies with that seductive grin—you know the one—and takes a sip from her wine glass.

"The Ori are the only true gods. I shall help you find the path to enlightenment."

"Then perhaps we should choose _you_ to be our new beloved."

Now there's a word I hoped never to hear again from her mouth. Actually, I kind of hoped never to hear _any_ word from her mouth again.

"We have never _seen_ refined naquadah such as this!"

"A single ingot could win us back the confidence of the Alliance!"

Oh yes, a couple of seats down, Tenat and Jup are examining the cutlery, eyeing their neighbours warily as they subtly sneak some spoons into their pockets. Across the table from them, a few replicators have just merged to form a perfect replica of Ra.

He's not too happy with it.

"There can only be one Ra!" he bellows, hitting the table with a fist and sending a few glasses crashing to the floor.

"Careful, Mr. Ra, this is government property," Senator Kinsey scolds from the adjoining seat. "The budget allocated to this project is already strained, you would not want any more damage."

"_Silence_, Tau'ri! I have created your civilization and _I_ will destroy it!"

At the mention of the Tau'ri, a silhouette stands at the end of the table. And then another one. And another one. And another one. And I can't say I'm surprised to see who's hosting this whole thing.

"Friends." Ba'al is nodding at everyone around the table with twelve identical smirks. "Let us toast to these Tau'ri; we would not be here today without them."

A chorus of angry sputtering follows. Words I wouldn't put in a dictionary. And somewhere in the midst of it, I'm not all that surprised to hear my name.

"I would be ruler of all the System Lords if it had not been for that Tau'ri!"

"My beloved, and he betrayed me!"

"He was given the chance to look into the Fires of Celestis and he refused to repent his heresy!"

"He and that double-crossing bandit, Vala, stole our naquadah!"

Wow, am I happy they can't see me right now.

And there's Yu, staring straight at me, his wrinkled face suddenly white with anger. I wonder what he's pointing at, there's nothing behind—

"Ona'kree! Lo kek!"

What? Kill who? Whoa—wait a minute, you're not supposed to—hey! Let's talk this out, like civilized people! Put that fork down, Niirti! Lya—

"I am afraid I must take my leave, Daniel Jackson. I wish you well on the next part of your journey."

_What?!!_

Before I can protest out loud, Lya vanishes with a _pop._ Did she just leave me to fend off a bloodthirsty mob by myself? They're advancing on me from all sides. There's nowhere to retreat, I can already feel the cold metal wall against my back.

And the Ba'als look particularly happy to see me.

"_Get him_!"

I feel my shoulders tense as the Doci aims his staff at me.

"_Lya_!!!!"

* * *

**A/N: One more chapter to go! As I might've mentioned before, this story had a mind of its own, and really strayed off the path I had intended to give it. But there's no arguing with the muses, 'specially not around this time of the year--imagine if they threw a tantrum and ate all the cookies and drank all the milk and scared away Santa! ;)**

**Until next time,**

**Myosotis**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: And so we come to the last chapter of this story! Many thanks to everyone who stayed with it throughout! **

**And Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays to you all!! I hope you are having a wonderful time with your nearest and dearest:)!**

_Daniel's Christmas Carol_

7.

Ow. Ugh. Make it _stop_. My head is pounding and my mouth feels dry—this must be the worst afterlife ever. If I ever get my hands on that little Nox—

"Hello darling!"

Oh, no.

Vala's face comes into focus, and I see she's wearing a funny knit hat and a red woollen scarf with tassels.

"Ugh. Let me guess, you're the ghost of Christmas future."

She looks taken aback for a second, then gives me a confused frown.

"Huh? Daniel, it's me…Vala!" Placing a hand on her hip, she turns to look sideways. "What's wrong with him?"

I notice Jack's back. Actually, Sam and Teal'c and Mitchell are here, too. This suddenly became a party and no one told me.

"Take it easy Danny-boy," Jack winks at me. "So whaddaya remember?"

Please. Like he wasn't floating around in limbo watching all of it. I rub my face and squint against the bright light.

Huh. That's new.

"A _chandelier_…nice touch to the old naquadah mine."

An aspirin shelf would be better.

"Did you just call my house…a _naquadah mine_?" Sam looks a little pissed off. And a little like she's about to start laughing.

What's going on here?

"I believe Daniel Jackson is confused."

Indeed.

"We're at Sam's house, Daniel. Christmas party…presents…you driving me over here and getting both of us lost…any of that ring a bell, darling?"

Wait, what? Hold on a sec.

"There was a bright light—"

"Well of course there was a bright light, Jackson, after all that eggnog." Mitchell's guffaw doesn't help the head-pounding. "I swear, the stuff Vala made could've fuelled a rocket."

"We're getting her to do it again next year."

Jack gives Vala a thumbs-up. My mind's reeling. This kind of does look like Sam's living room. Her sofa. Christmas party. So I drove here? Eggnog—_ugh_.

"Wait, so I'm not dead?"

"Nope." Jack grins at me. "Just a _very_ cheap date."

"And…you're not a ghost."

Just making sure. Not sure I appreciate that look that Jack and Mitchell just exchanged.

"Good to see you're still racing Carter for the brains of the team title," Jack deadpans, and Mitchell nods at me at the same time:

"Maybe you should lie back down, Jackson."

I look at Jack. Come to think of it, he's not transparent anymore. And—

"Hey," I realize with enthusiasm, "the chain of command is gone!"

"It is?!" Sam brightens up, then catches herself. "Not that that's relevant in any way."

"Put down that eggnog, Carter."

"Yes, Sir."

So it was all some kind of drunken fantasy? But I remember everything so clearly. Apophis, Lya, the transparent, floating Jack. Santa Claus? No, wait, that's not right. Ow. God, my head hurts. Can someone please turn down the lights?

"You…are ridiculously lightweight, Daniel," I hear Vala's teasing tone, but at the same time the glaring chandelier lights go out. Huh. Didn't even realize I'd said it out loud.

"Come on, Carter, let's get some coffee going." Jack's voice floats out of the room, and by the shuffling of feet I think everyone else has followed him. I crack open an eye, just to make sure I'm still in Sam's living room. Looking good so far.

That was one strange dream.

I hold up a hand and stare at it for a second, flexing my fingers. Everything feels just the way it should. (except for my head, which I'm sure was never designed to throb quite that painfully. My mouth feels a little numb, too. Ow, and my eyes…ah well, at least everything below the neck seems to be working.)

"Now isn't _that_ good to hear, darling."

Damn it. Of all the things to say out loud…and when did Vala get back into the room, anyway? Ow, ugh…God.

"Just what the hell did you put _into_ that eggnog, Vala?"

Through half-open eyelids, I can see her cross her arms and give me a defensive glare.

"Well I warned Jack that I had no idea how to prepare your quaint little Christmas inebriant, but since _you_ wouldn't let me go anywhere near the tree…"

"You tipped it over!" Oh yea. It's coming back to me.

"It was an accident!"

My head still thumping, I manage to haul myself to a half-sitting position on Sam's couch, only to accidentally knock over a nearly-empty glass that had been precariously perched on the back of the sofa. I scuttle to catch it in time, but it's hopeless: I can only watch as whatever amber liquid was still inside forms a little puddle on my pant leg.

"_Argh_."

"Really, Daniel, you're such a baby." How did she suddenly end up nearly on top of me? And hey-hey-_hey_—what's with all the rubbing and prodding? "Here, let me help you clean that off."

Ha! I manage to catch her wrists before she does God-only-knows what Vala can come up with…

"I think not." I snatch the white napkin from the hands. Oh don't even _try_ to pull the injured-pride act on me, it won't work ag—

"You know what Daniel?" That sounds genuinely unfriendly, a little worse than I expected. "You think too much."

Hm.

"I was only trying to be helpful." She swivels on her heels, heading for door and damn it, apparently the act is working again, after all.

"Okay, okay, wait!" Ow. Throb. "Don't go. I'm sorry."

I proffer the napkin as a sign of peace. She wavers for a second, then turns back, grabs the napkin and plops on one of the sofa arms—a safe distance from my eggnog-stained pant leg, the object of our dissension.

This silence isn't so bad, come to think of it. Kind of…snug. Helps with the headache. Lets me think, too. I wonder what my subconscious is trying to tell me.

"Vala?" In the light coming from the hallway, I can just make out the outline of her body, leaning against the sofa. Her head turns slightly towards me.

"Mm?"

"That's what people do. We think. We have higher cognitive function…that's what separates us from the anim—"

"Daniel?" I know what's coming. "Shut up."

Well. At least there was no mention of tongue-cutting. That's progress.

The skin around my mouth still feels a little tingly when I speak. At least the painful throbbing is subsiding, and my eyes don't feel like they're about to pop out with every heartbeat.

"Vala?"

"Mmmhm." She doesn't sound too happy with the calls for attention. I don't know if I'm displeased or relieved that she's not paying attention.

"You know what else separates us from the animals?"

A sigh. Say what you will, but I know she's pondering whether making an innuendo is worth the effort.

"No," she finally grunts, face half-buried in the back of the sofa.

"Previously engineered social engagements…with selective participation."

Pause. Blink.

"…okay." Utter confusion.

I must've had more to drink than I thought. Shut up now. Keep it shut. Don't—

"Vala?"

Damn it.

"That's it, no more eggnog for you. Ever."

"How sure are we that the Ba'als are dead?"

She actually slips off the arm of the sofa at an alarming speed.

"_Jack_!! How long can it _possibly_ take to make a pot of coffee?!"

**THE END**

**!Merry Christmas!**


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